


Harry Potter and the Knight of the Stars

by Otaku553



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Kirby (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, And Human Kirby Characters, Anthropomorphic, Book 1: Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone, Book 3: Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban, Confused Harry, Crossovers & Fandom Fusions, Gen, Gijinka, Human Kirby, I mean who wouldn't be, Kirby at Hogwarts, Not Beta Read, Post-Kirby Star Allies, Woooh let's derail canon, outsider pov
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2020-02-06
Packaged: 2021-02-27 09:41:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 18,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22054990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Otaku553/pseuds/Otaku553
Summary: To them, Kirby's the eccentric little kid even youger than the first-years, oddly mature and fit for his age but still childish with eyes full of joy, wonder, naivety, that wanders around the school during the day.To the universe around them, Kirby is Astra Knight, a savior, a beacon of the light, a Star Warrior.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 69





	1. Year 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi new Kirby crossover I really need to stop omg  
> But anyways, I've been eyeing Harry Potter for a while because there are some fascinating crossovers with it. Either way, I hope you enjoy!

He came, at some point, flashing into existence like a shooting star.

He was an oddity. A singularity? Despite his usual-childlike behavior— befitting of his apparent age— he was... 

Harry didn’t know quite how to describe it. The pink-haired, bright-eyed child always seemed so far off, like his mind wasn’t at Hogwarts, wasn’t even on _Earth_. It was like it was beyond, in the stars. And it must’ve been, since he always took any chance to look at the sky.

Those bright blue eyes would turn wistful, staring with a thousand-lightyear stare, older— far older— than he looked.

Tapping him on the shoulder though, he would turn right around with a beaming grin, every bit the child he seemed.

Huh.

* * *

He was introduced to them mid-November, well into the school year. Students were well-settled in by then, well-accustomed to the moving staircases, boisterous paintings, and nonsensical teachers. They settled into their daily routine of hating Snape (if they weren’t a snake at least) and traversing from one end of the castle to the other.

After a weary day of forgettable schoolwork and lessons, they all clustered towards the Great Hall, where dinner called with promises of comfort and joy.

And there dinner was, laying tantalizingly on the four long tables. Up at the head table, professors conversed amicably— except for Snape, who was rather… annoyed?

Normally, seeing Snape annoyed was nothing new. Except, hello, there was a pink-haired child next to him.

With _bright_ pink hair. Glaringly so, standing out in the neutral earthy tones of the castle like a sore thumb.

The students were curious, but went to their respective tables and seats anyways.

Harry, Ron and Hermione all exchanged a few whispered speculations about the child, though each of Ron’s seemed less realistic than the last.

“What if he’s an _alien_?” Ron said, Harry furrowing his eyebrows and narrowing his eyes in skepticism.

“Don’t be silly, Ron,” Hermione immediately shot back. Before she could open her mouth to explain though, the sound of a spoon tapping a goblet resounded through the hall, and the students’ heads turned to the front, where Dumbledore stood.

“Erhem,” Dumbledore began. “I hope you have been enjoying your supper, students! I apologize that I must interrupt, but it is my pleasure to announce that Hogwarts will be playing host for a short time!”

He made a gesture, large sleeves of his robes billowing as he pointed towards the pink-haired child.

As if on cue, the child shot the room a brilliant smile and jumped over the table— wow, he was nimble— to stand beside Dumbledore.

He was easily dwarfed by the tall old headmaster, but— probably because of his ostentatious pink clothes— he commanded the entire hall’s attention.

“Hiya!” he exclaimed, face lit with enthusiasm and excitement. “I’m Kirby.” He stated this with absolution, like it was a simple fact of the universe that everyone knew.

“Now,” Dumbledore said, “feel free to return to your suppers, please.”

With that anticlimactic end, both of them walked around the head table back to their spots, Kirby jumping and half-skipping the way back.

Well.

That told them basically nothing.

The hall erupted with chatter.

* * *

They found pretty early on that Kirby liked to hang around Snape.

For what reason, Harry _couldn’t fathom for the life of him_.

Though, he did have to admit it was pretty funny to watch. The duality of Kirby’s bubbly bright personality right next to the sulking mass of edge himself, Snape, was ridiculously comical.

It wasn’t rare to find Kirby sitting in a stool next to the Potions professor’s desk, sometimes simply watching, sometimes pestering the man with all sorts of questions.

“Hey, hey, hey, Mr. Snape, what does the goat liver do for the potion? Why goat? Why not… chicken? Goats are cute, that’s sad,” was one such example that had Harry’s eyebrow raised when he walked into the room.

He had to admit he smirked when Snape pinched his nosebridge and took a long, deep, suffering breath, before drawling, “leave. Me. Alone.”

Kirby didn’t, and Snape’s fingers seemed to twitch with the urge to drag the boy out himself, but he stayed his hand. Kirby smiled softly and widely, but his mouth remained shut for the next hour-long class period.

Snape simply sighed, going about class as he would, an absolute grump.

Harry did note that he took 30 more points off from Gryffindor than usual.

* * *

Kirby walked in through the door to the transfiguration classroom at the same time as him, Ron and Hermione. It was somehow odd to see him in another class besides Snape’s. Had he been kicked out? Harry mentally snickered at the thought. 

“Ah, Kirby,” McGonagall walked up to them. “Have you finally decided to stop with Severus?” She seemed somewhat fond, if the small smile on her usually stoic face was anything to go by.

Kirby responded with a resigned smile. “‘Course not! He kicked me out.”

Oh, Harry had been spot on.

McGonagall sighed. “And you decided to come here why?”

Kirby grinned. “Just to watch! Don’t worry, I’ll be quiet!”

Harry, Ron and Hermione took their respective seats, bewildered over the conversation. But soon class began, and thoughts of the child were quickly pushed back in favor of figuring out how to transfigure a pincushion from a rock.

Harry couldn’t help but look over his shoulder at the boy, whose wide blue eyes twinkled with mirth and curiosity— not unlike Dumbledore, now that Harry thought about it.

But he could be quiet when he wished, Harry found, as he observed the class without partaking in any activities. Harry wondered if he’d even be able to do so; Kirby was younger than even them, after all.

He had to stop looking over his shoulder at Kirby ten minutes before class ended, lest he fail to complete the task by the end of class.

* * *

Thoughts of the enigma known as Kirby faded from Harry’s mind as he went through Hogwarts, trying his best. It was his first year, after all, and Quidditch matches were already beginning.

Then he began to pour himself into the mystery that was Snape, Quirrell, and whatever they were talking about.

What a year it had become.

* * *

It was a month or two later when the doors to the Great Hall burst open with enough force that they almost slammed open… somehow. The doors were large and heavy, whoever was behind it had to have been a giant of a person.

The students’ heads snapped to the entrance, where instead, a red-headed person stood. Short, but about the height of a fourth-year, they supposed. An orange outfit, a blue bandana, a cream-white scarf and alarmed brown eyes were all they could register before the person rushed to the head table in a flurry.

Kirby, they noticed, had gone stock-still, sitting dumbfounded in his chair as the person leaned over the table.

“Kirby! C’mon, we need to go!” the person exclaimed, grabbing the child’s arm.

“Eh? Wait, wait, Dee!” Kirby protested even as he jumped over the table smoothly like he had on the first night, taking large steps to catch up with the person’s larger strides. “Explain!”

Dee turned around. “Later, not here. But it’s urgent and we need you there!”

Kirby’s confusion turned into determination with a resolute nod and the two of them made their way out the front door, running.

The students were left in the Great Hall, extremely confused.

* * *

Harry didn’t know what possessed him to do this. Perhaps curiosity over Kirby? Curiosity over why a seemingly normal child would be so urgently needed?

So, yes, he had followed Kirby and his friend Dee out of the castle, Ron and Hermione beside him. And dang, they ran fast. Harry just barely managed to keep them in sight as they turned the corner to a more discreet part of Hogwarts.

Harry cursed that he didn’t have the invisibility cloak readily on hand, so they weren’t able to sneak closer to hear better.

They made it just barely to catch the end of the panicked conversation.

“ — dark matter? But I thought—”

“We all thought so too, don’t be so sad. More than that, Dedede—”

“You have _got_ to be kidding me; again? What’s Meta doing?”

“Preparing the fleet. We still need you there though.”

Kirby sighed. “‘Kay, understood. Did you bring a ship, or…?”

“Of course, how else would I have gotten here? It’s somewhere in the forest.”

Kirby nodded, and the two ran down the hill towards the Forbidden Forest.

Harry’s stomach twisted uncomfortable. He didn’t want to follow them there, but also… what were they talking about? It must’ve been something, but that conversation only gave him more questions.

“Blimey, mate!” Ron exclaimed, now that Kirby and Dee were gone. “What was _that_ about?”

Harry didn’t know. He felt a tug on his sleeve, turning to find a frowning Hermione.

“C’mon Harry, class is starting soon.”

He turned back; he really wanted to see what was up though… that raised more questions than it answered. Why was the presence of a child such as Kirby required? And what ship were they talking about? How could someone hide a ship in a forest? Ships went on water didn’t they?

Though Harry considered it wasn’t out of the realm of possibility considering some of the things he’d seen magic do.

Hermione’s tug on his robe sleeve pulled him from his meandering mind.

“For now, it’s not hurting us or the school, whatever this is,” Hermione reasoned. “We do need to go back though, and rest assured I _will_ be going to the library for this as soon as possible.”

* * *

“How is it possible that not a _single thing_ about the phrase ‘dark matter’ appears in the libary? It’s even an astronomical term in the muggle world, right?”

* * *

That was how the enigma known as Kirby first came and went. He flashed into existence like a shooting star, leaving a brilliant trail of confused students behind him, and simply disappeared.

He faded from their minds shortly, thoughts whirlpooling around the mystery of the Philosopher’s stone.

* * *

Kirby returned next next year, looking much the same as he had before.

“Hiya!” he said to the crowd on the first day, during the entrance ceremony and feast. “I’m Kirby.”


	2. Year 3 Part 1

**_Harry_ **

Kirby returned next next year, looking much the same as he had before.

“Hiya!” he said to the crowd on the first day, during the entrance ceremony and feast. “I’m Kirby.”

The students were mostly neutral about this occurrence, seeing not much difference from before. There was much less speculation on the child to go around, despite him still being one of the many mysteries of Hogwarts.

Many of the first and second years had to ask around, but soon enough, any whispering or hushed questions faded.

They went about their dinner as they would.

Harry was glad he hadn’t missed much of the opening feast, but his mind wandered back to Sirius Black every few passing moments. He hoped that wouldn’t affect his year. Oh, what he’d do for a peaceful, normal year of school for once.

* * *

Harry, for one, was very excited for Hagrid’s first Care of Magical Creatures class. The forest was never quite a wonderful place to be in, but during the daytime, when bright sunlight filtered through light green leaves, illuminating the clearing with the hippogriffs, he found that he didn’t mind so much.

And then Hagrid had singled him out and had him ride a hippogriff.

What.

Not that he didn’t enjoy it.

As he got off, the smattering applause of his classmates hit his ears, and Harry grinned.

He didn’t register the little flash of pink in the corner of his eye until the class was already into practicing approaching a hippogriff, when Harry was allowed to sit. Was Kirby here then?

He didn’t have time to ask what a child like Kirby was doing in the _Forbidden Forest_ of all places before the deafening screech of a Hippogriff reached his ears.

He looked up, seeing Buckbeak alarmed, reared on his back legs, and everything seemed to slow down for just a moment—

Droplets of bright red plopped into the ground, silence suffocating every living being into inaction for a moment. The only sounds heard were Hagrid mumbling soothing words into Buckbeak’s ears and the pathetic whimpering of Draco Malfoy.

What had everyone’s eyes wide was not Malfoy rolling pitifully on the ground. Rather, it was the bright red gash on the arm of the small child dressed in pink.

Kirby stood between the Hippogriff and Malfoy, arm held up, tensed and fisted, with a triumphant smile on his face, blue eyes staring down the now calmed beast.

It started whimpering and crooning as it lightly tapped his beak against Kirby’s bleeding arm, but still Kirby patted the side of its head affectionately with his other hand, while looking expressionlessly at his wound.

“I’ll get to the Hospital Wing fine on my own, so continue class, please!” he beamed at Hagrid, before turning to walk up the hill as if he hadn’t just been gravely wounded.

Then, the uproar began.

“He’s _hurt!_ ” Hermione shouted. “Surely you aren’t going to let him go up on his own, Hagrid?”

Pansy Parkinson was crying. “Poor Draco could’ve been _killed_!”

Harry himself knew his mouth was hanging open, but he didn’t say anything. He was rendered speechless by the whole affair, much like the less vocal half of the class.

Hagrid seemed backed into a corner, if the way he was frowning and offering reassurances meant anything. “It’ll be alrigh’!” he shouted. “If yer worried, someone go with Kirby please!”

Hermione volunteered of course, but surprisingly,

After that was taken care of, the class somehow settled into some sort of normalcy.

Malfoy stopped rolling on the ground, and many went back to simply studying out of their placated monster books.

* * *

**_Hermione_ **

“Kirby, are you _really_ okay? You don’t have to pretend or anything, you know.”

“Mhm!” The smile on the child’s face hadn’t dropped at all. “I might not even have to go Madame Pomfrey; I have my own healing stuff in my room,” Kirby replied.

“You probably still should, just to be safe,” Hermione suggested, expression betraying her concern. “If it gets infected or anything, it’ll only get worse! It already looks terrible, too!”

Kirby shrugged, but remained silent as they walked, parting with Hermione at an unremarkable door, probably his room.

* * *

**_Kirby_ **

Kirby was seen at the head table as usual that night, nursing a thoroughly bandaged right arm, but otherwise looking as if nothing happened, even as rumors spread around the student body, each blowing the incident more and more out of proportion.

“He was almost mauled to death, I heard!” one student said.

“Apparently he jumped in at just the right moment to push Malfoy out of the way…”

“No way! Why is he here and not at the Hospital Wing if it was that serious?”

“I’m not kidding! There was red splattering on the ground and everything!”

Kirby continued nonchalantly chewing his food even as he heard everything. _Oh dear_.

“It would seem we have a new resident celebrity,” Snape sneered, though there was some semblance of teasing in his eyes.

Kirby puffed his cheeks and side-eyed Snape in annoyance.

If he threw an elbow towards the man’s arm at some point during dinner, that was neither here nor there.

* * *

Kirby had taken to wandering the hallways while people were in class. There was hardly anything to do when Snape threw him out of the classroom for being a nuisance, but he digressed.

In any case, after the whole Hippogriff incident, Kirby had taken to ducking away from students lest they acquired anymore rumor fuel. Just to make sure he didn’t seem to suspicious, even though the wound had healed over long ago, he still kept it in bandages.

He suspected Snape knew that he was uninjured by the way he waved it around and used it as regular without any signs of pain, but it wasn’t like he was trying to prove anything in particular. He was healing, just most definitely _not_ at an accelerated rate like most of his species would. Nope, no, definitely not.

So yes, one of his arms was still in bandages.

It was getting chilly outside. Perhaps he should switch to those baggy sweaters at some point. Though, he supposed temporarily he could just put on some arm-warmers.

The sound of students chanting what sounded like “ridiculous” piqued his interest though. He noted that this wasn’t the usual Defense Against the Dark Arts Classroom, even though Mr. Lupin seemed to be standing at the front.

Watching from the doorway was always fun. Students never seemed to know he was there when he was watching from just a slight crack of the classroom door.

He never really understood the material, but then again, he didn’t need to. He had his own fighting methods.

The wardrobe at the front of the room was opened before the line of students, and one after another, comical fears turned into even more comical parodies. Kirby was outright giggling for most of them.

A brown-haired one — well, that was vague, about half of the school had brown hair — went up, and made his fear spiral out of control on a slippery floor, like it had no balance.

Kirby laughed, almost not realizing that it was coming towards the crack in the door he was watching from. But constant awareness was not a concept Meta Knight preached for nothing, so Kirby did step back.

He was curious.

What would it turn into for him? He didn’t think he had fears, but considering the enemies he’d faced up till now, he supposed fear wasn’t an emotion he _never_ felt. It was just always quelled by his determination to protect his home and his friends.

Lupin was quick to relocate himself between the shape-changing boggart and the child, and as the boggart turned into a moon behind clouds and then a balloon flying back into the classroom, Kirby offered the professor a bright smile.

Well.

He supposed he’d never know what his greatest fear was.

Maybe that was for the better, he mused as he walked onto the next classroom. Maybe Minerva was teaching an upper-level class now? Their transfigurations had gotten so complicated that even Kirby was marvelling at them…

* * *

**_Harry_ **

Kirby was once again there, in Potions class, looking as if he hadn’t gotten mauled by a hippogriff, but instead just had a small scratch playing somewhere, judging by the minimal bandages he seemed to wear. He still waved his arm around in wide childishly exaggerated gestures, so Harry supposed he was fine.

He did note that Snape took less points from Gryffindor today. And even as he shot loathing glances at Kirby for his small quips and remarks during class, they were more playful, thinly veiling small glances of concern towards the boy’s arm.

Huh. Who’d’ve thought Snape could care about someone?

* * *

Now, Kirby was stuck to Snape’s side like a duckling behind a mother. Really, it was hilarious to watch.

“C’mon, Severus! Severus!! Tell me, tell me!” He pouted, jumping beside the sullenly walking professor, who grumbled under his breath.

When had Kirby gotten on to first-name basis with _Snape_ of all people?

* * *

And again, much like last last year, mid-October, another guest came, bewildering the entirety of Hogwarts. Only this time, it wasn’t the red-headed teenager with a blue bandana, but instead a blue-haired man with a mask.

The royal blue cloak he wore framed his face magnificently, making him appear somewhat like a medieval knight; the only thing he was missing was some armor.

He, unlike ‘Dee,’ Kirby’s friend from last time, entered much more quietly.

One second dinner was going as usual, and then the next, he was there.

Only the few students sitting close to the front doors noticed anything at first, but the confusion spread, and the hall gradually fell into silence.

The man strode forward with purpose, steps wide and confident, but his cloak remained wrapped tightly around him, his mask hiding his face.

This time, Kirby was the first to react, jumping from the table with what could only be described as joy.

“Meta!” He shouted, bounding up to the man enthusiastically. “I thought you weren’t coming for another month?”

The child seemed fond of him; speculations whirled in everyone’s minds immediately. A father? A brother? A family friend or uncle?

‘Meta,’ as he was now dubbed, tousled the child’s pink hair fondly. “We were ahead of schedule, so I came to stay with you for a bit.”

Kirby’s smile widened, eyes crinkling in happiness, and the hall collectively crooned at the child— which was fair; Kirby was indeed still younger than any of the first-years.

Dumbledore stood to graciously announce the new presence. “Please welcome Mr. Meta Chevalier to the school as you have Kirby!”

For the rest of the night, Kirby chattered animatedly with the masked man, while somehow helping himself to more food than Harry thought even Hagrid could eat. If Mr. Chevalier noticed, he didn’t say anything, as he lifted his mask to politely eat his own fill, while still nodding along to the child’s tales.

Harry wondered what it would be like to have a bond like that.

* * *

It wasn’t rare now to see Mr. Chevalier walking alongside Kirby in the vast halls of Hogwarts.

Kirby himself had a new skip to his step, like he had just had a Pepper-up potion or something. It was honestly adorable to watch, and seeing Kirby acting so childish, it struck the students.

Kirby didn’t act so childishly before. Sure, he had all the mannerisms of a child, all the signs of curiosity, wonder, and joy, but if what they were seeing now was the true him, then what had Kirby been showing them the whole time?

It only came out by comparison, and left the students bewildered. 

Meta Chevalier himself was no less a mystery.

First off, he was _never_ seen without his mask. Absolutely never, not a single time, even while he ate. He would shift it up a little, allowing his spoon access to his mouth, but otherwise, they never truly saw his face.

Despite this, Kirby seemed to trust him.

It was evidenced, when, during a trip to the Forbidden Forest with Hagrid’s Care of Magical Creatures Class, they found Kirby petting a hippogriff, with Mr. Chevalier standing nearby.

Either that, or Kirby was just that reckless. That… actually sort of suited the child.

And then, he always kept his cape wrapped firmly around him, and you wouldn’t be able to convince Harry, Ron or Hermione that it was because he was cold all the time. The funny thing is, there really wasn’t anything to hide. Underneath the cloak, he wore an average black sweater, gray pants, and dark purple boots. The only thing worth noting was perhaps the little golden cylinder attached to his waist, held by a belt.

Another thing they found once students got over their fear and started talking to the duo…

Meta Chevalier was cold.

He was polite, courteous, gentlemanly, but also showed a degree of calculation and cunning in every conversation. His eyes behind the mask were a pale icy blue, sharp, observing, and always aware.

He was mature in a way that reminded someone of an old man with his mannerisms and politeness. Despite this, most students were convinced that if his voice and height was anything to go by, he was a young adult. Thus, most of the older students just called him Meta.

To be safe, Hermione insisted that they refer to him as Mr. Chevalier though.

The first time Harry talked to Mr. Chevalier, he was alone. Hermione and Ron had gone to Hogsmeade— it was the first visit of the year, and Harry didn’t have his form signed, but heck if he was going to stay cooped up inside the castle for the whole time. So Harry was wandering the field close to Hagrid’s hut, hoping the man would return soon and Harry would at least have a conversation partner.

Kirby was up to his knees in the pond, seemingly greeting some of the creatures there— why in bloody hell anyone would want to do that was beyond Harry— but nearby, beneath the closest tree, Mr. Chevalier stood, straight, guarded, almost like a sentinel.

The way he held himself was so worn out but so dignified, Harry realized. Maybe he was a soldier— auror? — at some point.

Harry quietly approached the man. Now that he was there, he didn’t know what to say.

“Erm,” he began. “Nice day, isn’t it?”

Mr. Chevalier nodded. “Indeed,” he replied shortly.

There was a moment of awkward pause as they listened to the water splashing from the pond.

To Harry’s surprise, Mr. Chevalier was the one to begin the conversation.

“Wonderful, isn’t it? The joy and happiness of a child.”

Harry nodded. He supposed so. Though what that had to do with anything, Harry had no idea.

“They’re always filled with so much hope… they’re so curious, so imaginative.”

Harry was sure he didn’t imagine the way the pale blue eyes under the mask softened into something almost warm as he gazed far off, at Kirby, still splashing around in the pond.

“It’s my duty to protect his joy, his childhood… I try my best, but I fear it’s not enough.”

Harry awkwardly nodded. He didn’t know why Mr. Chevalier was telling _him_ of all people. He didn’t understand.

“To grow up early is a terrible thing, Mr. Potter. I’d see to it that the same does not happen to you.”

With that, the man stalked off quietly, leaving thoughts stirring around in Harry’s mind.

Well, that wasn’t much of a conversation, was it?

Mr. Chevalier was trying to tell him something. What, though? Harry didn’t know.

But pushing the encounter to the back of his mind, Harry decided to see Professor Lupin, as he’d been planning for a bit. Perhaps he’d be less cryptic about the boggart Harry meant to ask about.

* * *

**_Sirius_ **

“Hi again, Mr. dog,” Kirby greeted.

The large black hound sat easily beside the pink-haired child, like it was a habit.

Since finding him close to the death-trap known as the Whomping Willow, the boy known as Kirby wouldn’t leave him alone. Why? He had no idea. He was most definitely just a black dog wandering the grounds, definitely not an illegal animagus and definitely not Azkaban escapee Sirius Black. No sir, definitely not.

He thought maybe the child knew more than he let on, but then he started speaking in a completely different language that the dog had never heard before. Tilting his head in confusion, Kirby had smiled softly.

“Oh! I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I guess being a British dog, you wouldn’t understand this, huh?”

Kirby sighed. “The Knights’ language is so hard to learn… I can’t believe Meta tried to drill me on it in just a month! I’m not prepared for this, not at all; why’s it happening to me of all people?”

His face scrunched together as if he’d eaten a lemon. “Wait, don’t answer that. Meta’s already done that. But I guess you wouldn’t be able to anyways, would you, Mr. dog?”

Padfoot nodded, and rubbed his head reassuringly against the boy’s arm. He wished he could do more, anything to help this child.

Kirby beamed at him though, like all his troubles were gone, and that was enough. “Thanks, Mr. dog. I’m glad I could tell you about my knighting.”

Padfoot had heard that term several times, but never really got what that meant. It wasn’t something he’d ever heard of before anyways.

“I would tell Meta, but even he doesn’t have the solution to this stuff. Better to just trust him than worry him about stuff like this. Either way, you don’t understand what I’m saying, do you?”

Oh, if only he knew.

Kirby stretched and laid back on the hill, blue eyes gazing up longingly at the passing clouds and bright blue canvas of sky. “But oh well! Fate schmate, things out of my control and such. The Star Warriors will always need more members after all. Anyways, I can’t believe Dedede ended up getting possessed again! That was like, the fourth time it’s happened, though I think Dee was about to handle it on their own…”

* * *

Halloween day was almost over. If Padfoot aimed to do anything, it had to be now, while students and professors were still at Hogsmeade and the school was almost empty.

So, with great care, Padfoot trodded through the secret tunnel he had memorized off of the Marauder’s Map. It was the closest way to the tower— well-traveled by him and the others too— and would be the easiest path to killing off that bloody traitorous rat.

Finally reaching the familiar portrait door to the Gryffindor tower, Sirius transformed easily back into a human.

“Let me in,” he demanded.

The Fat Lady stuck her chin in the air haughtily. “Password?”

“I don’t have it!” Sirius shouted. “But please, you have to let me in, Harry’s in danger and the traitorous rat’s there!”

“Yes, of course!” The Fat Lady retorted. “In danger of you! Now listen here you criminal, this tower is _mine_ to guard and you will not go in without _my_ approval!”

“ _You don’t understand!_ ” Sirius bellowed, swinging his arm.

_Riipppp._

The dreadful sound of tearing canvas reached Sirius’s ears, and he stopped. 

_Oh no._

The shriek of the fat lady awakened the snoozing portraits, and Sirius had no choice but to transform back, retreat for now, until he had a better chance.

Mark his words, he’d _kill_ Peter Pettigrew.

* * *

**_Kirby_ **

Kirby re-entered the castle a bit later than usual, only to find the students bustling and murmured rumors spreading through the populace like a drop of water spreading ripples through the water.

So of course, the first person he asked for information was Meta Knight. He knew his mentor always gave the most reliable information. 

“Someone tried to break into the Gryffindor dorms, it seems,” the knight reported. “Nothing seems to be harmed besides the Fat Lady’s portrait, but all the students will be moved to the Great Hall for the night, so that the teachers will be able to search the school for Sirius Black.”

Kirby tilted his head. “So Sirius Black is the target? What do we do?”

“As we have always done. We stand clear of their issues. This is not our world.”

Kirby frowned.

* * *

**_Harry_ **

Moving down to the Great Hall was just fueling the rumor mill, Harry thought. It was much ado about not much— but not nothing, because a serial murderer had managed to _get into Hogwarts and almost into where he was living_. And that, certainly, was cause for concern, he had to admit.

But as much as Harry feared for his life, this was a bit overboard in his opinion. _All_ students. Crammed into the Great Hall.

Lovely.

But he supposed it was good that the professors were mostly staying close to or inside the Great Hall to guard the students. Beyond providing a wonderful sense of security, it also provided the opportunity to _eavesdrop_. 

“Hey, hey, Minerva,” a hushed but distinctly childish voice said. “Could I join in?”

“On the searches? Kirby…”

“I won’t interfere too much, I swear!” Under his breath, Harry could swear he heard a muttered “unless needed.”

There was a moment of silence as Harry was sure Professor McGonagall was evaluating and pondering. No way she would allow a child to go on a hunt for a bloodthirsty serial murderer though, right?

Right?

“Tsk. Fine, Kirby. But be discreet.”

_Seriously?_

“Of course, Minerva!” Kirby sounded playfully affronted. “Who do you take me for?”

“The only person who would wear so much glaringly bright pink on a daily basis,” McGonagall smartly returned. “I swear, if the color suited you any worse, you’d be on the same level as Dumbledore.”

Shoot, they were coming this way. Harry made sure to slow down his breathing to appear unconscious as their footsteps sounded next to and then past his head.

Their voices quieted soon after from the distance, but Harry had heard enough.

Somehow, somehow…

Kirby was more than he seemed.

Otherwise, there was no way he would be allowed to join the searches. But then again, hadn’t the child always been a puzzling enigma? There was the unforgettable incident in first year when ‘Dee’ had pulled Kirby out for some urgent reason. 

And then Harry had experienced it himself, even if he was distracted at the moment—when the hippogriff struck, Kirby was nowhere in sight in the clearing. Given, perhaps he was behind a tree or something, but to so quickly get between the hippogriff and Malfoy, he had to have used some sort of trick.

Magic perhaps? That explained most oddities relating to Hogwarts, generally.

Though, that brought up an excellent point.

He’d never seen Kirby actually _use_ magic.

Which was an oddity in itself, considering this was a _magic school_.

The mystery just kept digging deeper and deeper.

He was sure Hermione and Ron would be enthusiastic to hear about this in the morning, he thought as he drifted in and out the depths of restfulness.

* * *

“What?” Ron hissed indignantly over breakfast. “You’re saying a _child_ was allowed to search for a murderer? How come _we_ can’t? We know he’s after you, we have the right! We’re involved!”

Hermione used the spine of her book to hit Ron on the head. “Did you consider that if McGonagall considered it, Kirby might be qualified?”

“Ouch! And how could he be? He’s a _child_ for Merlin’s sake!”

Hermione sighed. “I forgot to tell you guys earlier, but I thought something was off about him too.”

Ron rolled his eyes. “Yes, of course something’s off. We definitely haven’t considered him a big mystery since first-year.”

“Oh, shut it, Ronald. I meant that when I was taking Kirby to the Hospital Wing that day, he didn’t even go.”

Harry furrowed his eyebrows. “Why not though? It would’ve helped him. Does he have a reason?”

Hermione shrugged. “He just said he had enough “healing stuff” to make do himself.” She accentuated the phrase with air quotes.

The rest of breakfast was spent exchanging theories, and pretending that the only thing the entire school was talking about was not the mass murderer after Harry. He found he quite enjoyed it.

* * *

At some point after lunch, as they were walking to potions, having a normal conversation about normal stuff (how homework was going and the likes) Kirby had inserted himself into their group easily.

“Snape always has us handing in essays a mile long, I swear!” Ron whined. Harry nodded along as Hermione rolled her eyes.

Kirby seemed to relate as he nodded as well, a pout on his face. “I know! Not a problem with Severus since I’m not his student, but Meta’s already trying to get me to write essays in a language I just learned months ago. It’s so hard!”

Hermione’s ears perked at that. “What sort of language? That’s remarkably fast to pick up a whole speaking and writing system!”

Kirby waved his hand absentmindedly. “Oh, you probably haven’t heard of it. It’s small and barely used. I was able to learn it quickly because it’s somewhat similar to my native tongue.”

Harry noted that it was the wrong thing to say as Hermione’s eyes burned with the challenge.

Kirby suddenly found the sky very interesting, pointing out some of the unique cloud structures past the tall old windows of the school.

But it effectively steered the conversation topic away from this language.

Before they knew it, the cold atmosphere of the dungeons was biting at their skin as they took their usual seats among the Gryffindors in the class.

Harry caught a small nod and exchange of glances between Kirby and Snape though. Curious.

* * *

**_Kirby_ **

Kirby pouted as Meta Knight strutted through the door.

And yes, no matter what the respectable knight said, he definitely _did_ strut. They exchanged glances, molten gold meeting sky blue, promising Kirby a lecture about future involvement in other worlds.

Kirby mentally shrugged. Meta knew there was nothing he could do anyways to stop Kirby’s naturally impulsive instinct to help others, and it was not for lack of trying.

Meta Knight walked over to the resident potions master and exchanged a few words that Kirby could barely hear. Mostly cordial greetings, hushed conversations about the guard plans for both Hogwarts and Harry Potter, and shared eye rolls over Kirby.

And hey, Kirby resented that. But oh well.

* * *

**_Harry_ **

As class let out, Harry was, as usual, slow with packing his things. But seeing Chevalier talk with Snape, he had an epiphany, and had gone embarrassingly still for a few seconds.

Of course Kirby would trail after Snape like a duckling to its mother. Snape and Chevalier had the exact same air of cold indifference about them, the appeal of which Harry could not, for the life of him, understand.

But as he watched Kirby jump down from his customary stool to stand beside the two cold adults, he supposed Kirby far out-balanced their negativity with his brightness.

To each their own, Harry supposed.

* * *

Kirby walked with them again, this time from potions to transfiguration. Talking with Kirby was fun, Harry found. It was like talking with a friend from long ago he never knew he’d had. Kirby understood so much despite his youth and childishness.

By the way Ron and Hermione accepted him as well, it seemed they agreed.

By contrast, Chevalier was remarkably like a shadow. He was quiet and stood by, but was always there; impossible to get rid of but easy to ignore.

That said, Chevalier hadn’t done anything against him, so it wasn’t like Harry, Ron, or Hermione disliked him.

He thought the two of them as a duo were quite intriguing.

But he shuffled those thoughts away as transfiguration began.

Another subtle nod between Kirby and Professor McGonagall. What did it mean?

* * *

Professor McGonagall kept him after class.

With some trepidation, after his things were packed, he walked up to the front desk. “Yes, professor?”

And then he listened.

The revelations were nothing new. Just a warning to keep off the Quidditch pitch unless Hooch was there, or a note that professors might escort him around because of Sirius Black possibly loitering around.

Harry was annoyed, but said nothing. He didn’t need a guard. What was the point? Wasn’t Hogwarts supposed to be the safest place in the world?

Okay, yes, perhaps Sirius Black was able to still break in.

So okay, yes, he had to concede that point. Then… 

“Does that mean Mr. Chevalier was my guard this morning?” Harry wondered aloud.

McGonagall nodded. “Very astute of you, Mr. Potter. Yes, Chevalier is an old friend of ours that we trust, and given his current activities, is most often available. Get used to seeing him more often.”

Harry nodded, once again annoyed that he would have to have a guard. But hey, that meant Kirby would be able to join them more. Maybe they’d be able to unravel the mystery better now that the mystery was closer.

Though come to think of it, _Kirby_ was the person who nodded at the professors. But Harry wasn't paying attention to Chevalier as much. Maybe he should check next class.

Politely thanking Professor McGonagall, Harry walked out to his waiting friends to head to Care of Magical Creatures.

* * *

**_Malfoy_ **

Malfoy was, as usual, sneering at the hippogriff in the forest. From a distance, but still.

He _was_ grateful that he hadn’t gotten hurt, but the report to his father had been ignored, for the most part. Draco wasn’t hurt, so his father saw no need to execute the big brutish bird or sack the unintelligible giant teaching them.

A shame.

The hippogriff stared at him. And then squawked.

Draco would adamantly deny jumping two feet in the air. 

But then the poster boy, weasel, and mudblood came down the hill, and Draco had all the more reason to sneer. And _Kirby_ was beside them.

Why the bloody hell would that child be hanging around the likes of _them_? Oh right, because he was stupidly brave like the rest of them.

And that bravery had been why Malfoy got away from his encounter unscratched. Kirby had shed blood for him, and the significance of this did not go amiss, even for Malfoy.

So if his eyes softened upon seeing the child, if he didn’t tease Kirby at all unlike how he did all other Gryffindors, nobody commented.

* * *

**_Snape_ **

“Hey, hey, Severus, why go off the plans?”

“You know too, don’t you? The man is a werewolf. This is just educating the students.”

Kirby pouted. “No, this is just spiteful. They’ll learn this later in the year anyways.”

“Then what would you have me do?”

“Actually _follow_ Remus’s plans? He’s a better teacher than you think.”

Snape sighed.

“Fine.”

* * *

**_Harry_ **

The first game of the season was fast approaching, and Harry was glad he was still allowed to practice. After all, first match was against Slytherin.

Oddly enough, Professor Lupin had fallen ill the day before. He’d asked Kirby if he knew anything, since Kirby seemed close to most of the professors, but to no avail. Kirby simply shrugged.

Kirby now hung out with them a lot more. While he still spent his dinners at the head table as usual, occasionally flitting around the Great Hall like a social butterfly, he walked with them to classes and generally sat in the back of the room. The third-year Gryffindors were seeing far more of him than ever before, and the other students were seeing him less and less in the grumpy potions master’s den.

Harry supposed it was only natural. While McGonagall said Chevalier was meant to be a guard, Kirby himself must’ve had some measure of strength too.

Harry has pondered the thought that maybe Kirby was just getting closer to them because he was supposed to guard them, but the idea seemed ridiculous. Kirby was such a bright, cheerful person. A perfect friend.

He was snapped out of his musings as Professor Snape walked past, rapping his hand on the desk to bring Harry’s attention back to the textbook.

Oh yeah, Harry remembered with dread. Snape was substituting for Lupin today.

Kirby watched from the back as usual. It almost felt like another potions class.

As they finished reading the section on the magical creature they were studying, Snape used a projector to give a lecture on its anatomy and measures against it.

There was no wand-waving, none of the excitement that Lupin spoke with. Just the slow, monotonous drawls of Snape’s usual voice.

Harry almost fell asleep, thank goodness he didn’t. Snape would’ve taken _so_ many points off if he had.

* * *

_“And they’re off!”_ Boomed Lee Jordan’s voice from the announcer’s box. _“Quaffle goes to Slytherin first, with a quick dodge of a bludger from Weasley and a toss, Flint— misses! Good block from Wood’s broom tail, bring the Quaffle back into Gryffindor’s hands…”_

Harry wiped his glasses of the rain water obscuring his view, annoyed. How was he expected to do anything in this heavy rain? He couldn’t see, let alone fly after a golf ball-sized snitch flitting around in midair.

He really should’ve listened to Hermione when she told him to waterproof his stuff. For now, the best he could do was look around the stands.

Kirby’s bright pink attire was not dulled by the grey weather whatsoever, and easily drew Harry’s attention. Sitting next to Kirby was that big black dog from before. Huh. Maybe they knew each other.

Harry peeled his eyes away to search elsewhere, not catching the familiar golden glint anywhere close to that section of the field.

_There._

Harry dove straight for it, hoping to end the match soon. He barely noticed Malfoy to his side, darting after the snitch himself.

He may have had the faster broom, but Harry had higher maneuverability. As the snitch suddenly turned up, Harry pulled his broom head vertical, suddenly stopping his plummet. He vaguely heard a crash beside him as he zipped away.

Back on track, he chased after the snitch, winding around the Slytherin goalposts, narrowly dodging a bludger, until finally, finally—

His fingers closed around the cool golden metal and the whistle was blown.

“ _And Harry Potter catches the snitch!”_ Lee announced. _“With the score at 20-10 in Slytherin’s favor, going up to 160-20 in Gryffindor’s, Potter ends the game in record time!”_

Harry grinned. He couldn’t believe his luck.

* * *

**_Kirby_ **

Kirby had half a mind on the game and another half on the floating ragged cloaks drifting listlessly towards the stadium.

Nobody else seemed to have noticed it yet besides him and Meta Knight. He noticed how his mentor shivered almost imperceptibly, and Kirby held his hand. Hopefully Kirby’s warmth would help the Knight a little.

Mr. dog, too. Kirby rested a warm hand on the poor canine’s head.

He’d already met those creatures that the wizards called dementors. His encounter was quite… anticlimactic, one would say.

He knew as soon as he saw them that they were soul-stealing creatures, attracted to negative emotions, namely fear. But Kirby had no fear to give.

They were attracted to the most horrifying pasts. But Kirby’s past was filled with triumphs and joy.

He found out soon that they never came towards him. Though, that was probably because of what he was.

His fight against Void Termina a few years ago had been really informative. Creatures like him, like Meta Knight, even like Zero and Dark Matter, were all born of emotions. Somehow, somewhere, a miraculous cosmic gathering of feelings was drawn together to create life. And that life was him. That life was Meta Knight, Dark Matter and Gooey, Void Termina and Void.

Going through the old scriptures Hyness and the mage sisters had provided told him as much, and he knew, though it wasn’t written anywhere, he was essentially a puffball made of positivity.

Courage to stare down the greatest adversaries, hope to counter the darkest despair, love to conquer his enemies and gather his friends.

Kirby was a being of pure positivity, joy, and happiness. A miracle even anong miracles, Meta had told him.

That was why as the dementors approached, Kirby had confidence that they would not come anywhere near the game. He breathed a sigh of relief as he sensed them drifting back and away, the small shivers of both Meta and Mr. dog receding.

* * *

Winter finally settled in and the first snowfall veiled the ground in a blanket of powdered white. The time was near.

“Sorry, Minerva! Have to leave.”

McGonagall smiled. “Finally time for your knighting, isn’t it?”

Kirby nodded. “It’s around December in Earth time. Since that’s the time that Popstar’s moons line up, they thought that would be the best.”

“Well, good luck, dear. Will you be returning soon?”

“If all goes well.”

* * *

“What? Mate, why d’you have to leave _now_? Ravenclaw’s playing ‘gainst Hufflepuff in two weeks!” Ron complained.

Kirby held up his hands apologetically. “Sorry I won’t be here to watch them play! I’ll probably be back at some point later in the year, don’t worry!”

Hermione smiled. “I hope everything’s alright! If you don’t mind me asking, what do you need to leave for?”

Kirby shrugged. “Coming-of-age ceremony of sorts in my hometown. Anyways, good luck in school, and good luck in any upcoming Quidditch games, Harry!”

* * *

It wasn’t really a lie, Kirby thought as he boarded his warp star next to Meta in the Forbidden Forest. He hoped things turned out alright while he was gone.

“Are you worrying about Sirius Black again?” Meta Knight inquired, always perceptive.

Kirby shrugged. Meta knew the answer anyways, if he was asking.

“You just can’t stop worrying about worlds not your own, can you….”

Kirby beamed. “Why, you know me so well!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So uh I added tags for the POV's because they end up switching a lot more than I expected. Hope that clears up stuff! But anyways, hope you enjoy! I did not expect this to get longer, much less by like 6k words, but oh well.  
> Promise I'll try my best to update my other fics soon! In the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this!  
> :D If you enjoyed this, pleaase leave a comment!!


	3. Year 3 Part 2

After Kirby and Chevalier left, things seemed to have quieted down.

News on Sirius Black became sparse, and the insufferable screeching of the Fat Lady became the gung-ho challenges of Sir Cadogan, the new portrait guarding the Gryffindor hole. With that also came one of the best parts of the year:

Christmastime.

To Harry’s frustration, another Hogsmeade trip. Of course. So Ron and Hermione could merrily explore the quaint little village while Harry had to stay alone in the big cold castle. Whoopdee doo.

So maybe it wasn’t the best part of the year for this year, at least. But Harry had an ingenious idea; he wondered how he hadn’t thought of it before. Of course. The invisibility cloak.

Getting caught by the Weasley twins was unplanned, and so was getting the Marauder’s Map, but Harry wouldn’t complain. The map helped him find a path to The Three Broomsticks, one of the places Hermione and Ron had told him about.

There were voices coming from above; he must be in the cellar. He kept his eyes peeled and ears piqued for anybody that might see him, even if he was under the cloak.

Then, his ears caught the words ‘Sirius Black’ and caution was thrown to the wind.

Apparently Sirius Black had been his father’s best friend. Apparently Sirius Black, Peter Pettigrew, Remus Lupin, and James Potter had been thick as thieves. Apparently Sirius Black had killed two of them and been arrested.

Apparently Sirius Black was supposed to be his godfather.

In that moment, Harry knew nothing but anger.

How dare he. _How dare he._ They trusted him, they trusted him with their lives and his and Sirius Black, the friend, the murderer, the traitor, killed them. 

They trusted him.

He stormed out the tavern, into the biting cold, knowing that Ron and Hermione were on his trail, knowing that he was making loud footsteps and bumping into people, knowing that it was a wonder he hadn’t been caught yet, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

Then, with a chilling blood-curdling scream, the world faded to black.

* * *

When he awoke, he was in the Hospital Wing.

Hermione gasped as his eyes flitted open. “Ron! Ron, come here! Harry’s up!”

Shaking, Harry struggled to prop himself up on the bed, arms feeling like jelly. He couldn’t feel any strength in them, just immense exhaustion.

“What happened?” he asked.

Hermione and Ron’s expressions clearly betrayed concern as Hermione explained. “The dementors came and surrounded you,” she said. “Dementors are like that. They’re drawn to negative emotions, and I don’t think your mind was in a right state then.”

Oh. So it had been the dementors again.

Off-hand, Harry was impressed that he’d lasted half the year without running into them. Though, he supposed it was reasonable that they’d been drawn to him considering what he’d just overheard.

Just thinking about it made his blood boil. He took a deep breath. It wouldn’t do to draw the dementors to himself again, especially if they had such a strong effect on him. He composed himself. What he needed to do was to tell Ron and Hermione.

* * *

He ended up asking Professor Lupin if there was anything he could do about the dementors. Professor Lupin told him of a charm called the Patronus, a manifestation of one’s deepest joy, that could drive away the dementors. Harry wanted it. He really wanted to learn it. He practically begged Professor Lupin to teach him.

He didn’t need to beg though, since Professor Lupin had the same idea in mind. Harry was grateful, but he wondered if it was only because Professor Lupin knew his dad. Then again, he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Thus began two months of training on Saturdays with Professor Lupin and the Boggart.

* * *

It was only in February that Kirby finally returned, this time alone again, with no Chevalier in sight. They saw him at dinner, and waved excitedly. With everything that had happened over the past two months, they definitely had stories to tell.

Kirby waved back too, and they found that they missed the child’s bright demeanor and the innocent cheer that it brought into the walls of Hogwarts and the cold Potions dungeon.

Was it just them though, or was Kirby’s smile just the slightest bit duller?

* * *

The shadowy form silhouetted by moonlight held up the knife. All he needed to do was swing down. All he needed to do was kill the rat.

The redhead’s eyes opened.

A scream, an alert; he turned and ran straight out of the portrait hole before the lights could even turn on.

He didn’t notice the pink-haired child silently trailing behind him.

* * *

Kirby didn’t mean to take up patrols. He really shouldn’t have; as Meta had told him countless times already, this wasn’t his world. It wasn’t his planet to protect, wasn’t his place to step in. Kirby couldn’t very well just leave things though, so he stalked the halls at midnight, on one hand admiring the Earth’s beautiful moon and the galaxies he could see from there and on the other keeping an eye out for danger.

To his surprise, just a few days in, it struck. In the darkness of the night, a man with frizzy long hair brandishing a knife ran out of the Gryffindor common room after a scream that Kirby knew was from Ron.

Sirius Black.

Kirby gave chase immediately.

Let it be known that while he was a fledgeling Star Warrior, he had been trained in no small amount by one of the elites of the elites even among the ranks of the Star Warriors: Meta Knight. Subtlety was never much Kirby’s strong suit, but it had been the knight’s, and Meta would never let Kirby not learn the art.

Kirby could be quiet, and he was, as he tip-toe-ran behind the man. The corner turn, a slide down the still-moving staircase, and a short moment Kirby could barely see where he slipped behind a suit of armor.

Kirby ducked and slid into the passage just before the suit of armor repositioned itself to block him, and continued to pursue the man.

Through the winding duct, becoming narrower and narrower, Kirby ran. And then, at a bend, the man was ahead enough that Kirby couldn’t see him, and in that second, he disappeared.

Kirby abruptly halted. Where? He couldn’t have just gone through the walls, right? His head swiveled around as he took in the dirt walls of the tunnel. No, there were no marks for secret passages of any sort.

Then, a whimper. A sound Kirby knew all too well to be Mr. Dog. Kirby looked down and there he was, the big black dog that Kirby sat with on the hill so often, giving his musings and airing his troubles to.

What was Mr. Dog doing here?

The black dog nuzzled Kirby’s leg affectionately and Kirby shook his head. Sirius Black was gone for now, and Kirby needed to get back to the school. Patting Mr. Dog on the head, he smiled. “I’m back,” he greeted softly. “Did you miss me?”

And he had no idea how much the dog actually did, because Kirby was a friend, Kirby was happiness, and Kirby was one of the only good things that came out of the man’s cursed mission.

Kirby turned. It was time to get back to Hogwarts. But Mr. Dog was biting the hem of his shirt, tugging, and Kirby had to turn and frown at him. “Stop that!” he pouted. “I’m supposed to get back soon!”

“ _Woof!”_

Was it Kirby’s imagination or was Mr. Dog trying to say something? The canine barked again, and started walking in the other direction.

Oh well, it was nighttime anyways, so he wouldn’t really be missed. Not like he had a curfew or anything. He could be led into some abyss he’d neve be able to get out of, but the chances of that were slim, so he might as well follow Mr. Dog.

On the other end of the tunnel, Kirby finally saw some light. His eyes had gotten used to the dark tunnel already, so stepping into the moonlit shack felt almost like stepping into a bright sunny day.

Dust filled the air. Kirby had to resist the urge to cough as he looked around, bewildered. All the wood seemed worn and rotten, like a single hit would send the whole shack crashing down. Where was he?

Out the door was another tunnel, this time much much shorter and lined with tree roots. Kirby poked his head out to find the knobby brambles of the Whomping Willow swaying lazily in the breeze, undisturbed. Oh. So this was the shack underneath the Whomping Willow, the Shrieking Shack. That’s good! That was really close to the school!

Off-minded, he turned back to look at Mr. Dog, who was just sitting there. That must have meant that Mr. Dog lived here. Kirby felt bad, but it wasn’t like he was allowed to take Mr. Dog into the school. That, and…

Kirby still had his suspicions. Sirius Black disappeared and Mr. dog suddenly appeared in his place. What were the chances?

Smile betraying none of his suspicions, Kirby waved. “Thanks Mr. Dog. Bye! I’ll come by some time with some food.”

He’d just have to keep watching for a little bit.

* * *

Regular patrols continued after that, much to Minerva’s dismay.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your protection, Kirby, but really, aren’t you not supposed to interfere with this world’s matters?” She sighed. “Especially since you’re now a Knight. Shouldn’t you have some mind for diplomacy?”

Kirby nodded, a light smile playing on his face as he leaned over the railing of the bridge to look at the river snaking through the forest. “Yep. Don’t worry, Meta’s told me this tons of times. I want to though.” Kirby turned back to grin at Minerva. “Besides! The Knights can’t do anything to me. I’m their strongest.”

One might call this arrogant. Kirby knew it as fact, and so did everyone around him. Minerva certainly knew perfectly well about the child’s — if he could even be called that— escapades.

“Do be careful, Kirby,” she warned, though she still fondly tousled his hair, something she knew Kirby enjoyed no matter who it was from.

* * *

“Your cat’s a hellspawn!” Ron yelled at Hermione.

“Well, excuse me but _your rat_ was on its deathbed anyways! Crookshanks did nothing wrong!” Hermione retorted, furious.

Kirby looked up at Harry. Harry looked back at him. They shared a meek glance.

Oh dear.

* * *

“Oh?” Kirby’s eyes trailed after a little brown rat scurrying on the edge of the hallway. “What’s this?”

It took him no trouble to snag the rat up by its tail. It waved its little paws around frantically, writhing futilely in Kirby’s grasp. Kirby noted that it was missing a bit off one of its front paws; poor thing. Maybe Crookshanks had gotten to it?

Offhandedly, Kirby recalled that Ron was searching for his rat. Maybe this was Ron’s. He should probably return it. Meanwhile though, it still floundered around, hanging by its tail.

“Calm down, calm down,” Kirby soothed. “You’re fine.” He did something he probably shouldn’t have; he coaxed the rat to peace with just a tiny bit of Jamba magic, but nobody was watching. The rat’s movements gradually slowed and slackened, until finally it just hang limp, almost sheepishly, from Kirby’s hold on its tail. “Shh, you’re fine,” he assured a final time, transferring the rat to sit more comfortably upon his hand.

He let the rat sit on his shoulder as he continued perusing the halls.

Jamba magic was an interesting thing. He’d gotten it from one of his most recent journeys, a piece of a jeweled heart split into shards that spread across the galaxy. The Jamba Hearts had caused far more trouble than they were worth, and actually housed another god-like being that Kirby had to destroy.

By some stroke of luck, Kirby received the one piece of the heart, the only one of its kind, that was pure. The antithesis of everything else it was, a tiny little core of the Heart that was meant to counterbalance and stabilize the overwhelming corruption around it. Sometimes, Kirby marvelled at his luck.

The power allowed him to purify, or to endear others to him. He used it more often for the former, especially after Meta Knight had explained that while everybody in Dreamland was beyond willing to help Kirby out, using the Heart on them had essentially been coercion into a dangerous cause without their consent..

That thought had shaken Kirby to his core, and he resolved not to use Jamba magic if he could help it. He initially wanted to get rid of it, but consulting Hyness and the mage sisters revealed that the pure Jamba Heart was harder to remove than the corrupted, and had already latched onto Kirby.

Kirby bit his lip. It felt wrong to use it on the rat, but it was a rat. An Earth rat, not one of his animal friends like Rick, Kine, and Coo. It had far less sentience and needed to calm down anyways, or else it would hurt itself.

* * *

The next day, Kirby almost entirely forgot about the rat that he’d hidden in his pocket. It was quietly snoozing the day away. Perhaps it was nocturnal?

It was a nice afternoon; the clouds looked big and loomed overhead like cotton monsters, but soft and fluffy and nice. Kirby smiled.

Soft steps on the grass made their way to him, and Kirby didn’t even need to look to tell that it was Mr. Dog, who would usually join him on these afternoons for some nice cloud-watching. “Hello, Mr. Dog,” Kirby greeted. “Nice day today! The clouds are big and soft and fluffy!”

A growl.

Kirby stopped, sat up, and turned to the dog. “What is it?” Mr. Dog never growled at him.

The dog’s eyes were aimed at Kirby’s pocket, and Kirby finally remembered that Scabbers was there.

Kirby eyed the dog. “It’s Ron’s pet. Don’t like rats?”

Mr. Dog’s eyes narrowed, almost like a glare, and Kirby almost felt chills. In the tension between them, nothing moved but the slight breeze. Kirby recalled his suspicions, and tried to rack his brain for what Harry had told him. Sirius Black, murdered eleven people including Peter Pettigrew, his former best friend. Betrayed the Potters, worked for Voldemort.

Worked for Voldemort, and was now searching for Harry Potter to finish the job. The rat wasn’t Harry Potter though. It was related, but barely. The pet of the best friend of the target. Too far, if you asked Kirby, considering Kirby himself was a close friend. Something didn’t fit here.

Maybe he was overthinking it. Maybe the dog was just Mr. Dog, and he was overthinking it.

Or maybe…

“What do you have against this rat?” Kirby finally asked.

The canine opened its jaw, almost as if to bark, but no words came out. Of course they wouldn’t, Kirby realized. “Let’s go to the Shrieking Shack; I know who you are,” he immediately said.

The dog looked surprised for a moment, but immediately stalked off in the direction of the dangerous tree. 

Well, that confirmed Kirby’s suspicion, he supposed. The star warrior followed, slipping into the tiny hole between the roots with ease, finding himself once again in the dusty shack, where the dog was no longer a dog.

Sirius Black was tall, gaunt, and sickly pale, almost like a ghost. Dark bags beneath his eyes betrayed his poor health, and his long hair curled and frizzed like a tangled mess of shrubbery. He was basically the stock image of a madman, and how Kirby imagined Hyness looked beneath his hood most of the time: eyes wide but unseeing, a constant expression of anxiety plastered on.

Kirby wasn’t afraid though. He was worried. He couldn’t quite reconcile this person with Mr. Dog, but that didn’t mean he didn’t associate the two. Now that he thought about it, Mr. Dog’s ribs were too visible, too defined underneath the dog’s matted fur and too-saggy skin. Kirby mentally kicked himself for not bringing more food for his animal companion.

“The rat,” Sirius began, “is Peter Pettigrew. He’s not dead, hasn’t been for the past 13 years, and now he’s living the comfortable life of a house pet while I am getting my soul sucked out _by dementors every. Single. DAY!”_

Kirby was unfazed by the shouting. He gave several moments for the man to compose himself. 

Sirius Black took a few deep breaths. “Let me explain,” he sighed. His voice was gentler, quiet, and mildly soothing in its baritone. He just sounded…. Tired, Kirby realized. Beyond exhausted. “Do you know what a fidelius is?”

Kirby shook his head. He wasn’t intimately familiar with magic. The Wizarding equivalent of it, anyways.

“It’s an advanced ward, based around a secret location. It assigns one Secret Keeper and no one but the Secret Keeper can show anyone the place.” He smiled, a bit of nostalgia on his face. “James wanted me to be the Secret Keeper. I thought I’d just screw it up, but I was happy he trusted me so much.”

Kirby nodded. Trust was really a sacred thing. But somehow, that’d been broken. He needed to listen intently.

“I thought I was smart. ‘Give the role to Peter,’ I said. ‘They know I’m your best friend.’ I thought that this way, they wouldn’t be able to torture it out of me… after all, who would suspect tiny, sweet, scaredy-cat Peter Pettigrew?”

It was getting clearer now. Kirby saw where this was going.

“I guess it went both ways,” Sirius chuckled darkly. “If only I’d just taken it in the first place, James and Lily would still be alive,” his voice trailed off into a sort of whimper, and then soft, choking sobs.

Kirby had spent his entire life around emotions. He understood emotions. He understood how real Sirius Black’s guilt and sorrow was. He knew that something about the story everyone was told didn’t match up. He needed to go back and consider some things, talk to people, _figure out this mess_.

But first, he felt the overwhelming need to comfort Sirius Black.

“I’m sorry,” he spoke quietly, almost inaudibly. He wished he could hug the man. But there was still something he needed to do. “I’ll be back.”

He left.

* * *

Harry had been caught sneaking to Hogsmeade with the invisibility cloak and map by _Malfoy_ of all people. 

Malfoy! He couldn’t believe himself. Were his sneaking skills really that bad?

And of course Malfoy reported him to Snape, who took one look at the map and viciously snatched it out of his hand.

“Hey!” He shouted. “That’s mine!”

And he probably shouldn’t have defended himself, as Snape’s glare met his own, and Snape’s low voice drawled, “Evidently, Potter. Using this to sneak around, are we?”

Harry’s glare faltered. Did Snape know what the map was? “It’s just a piece of parchment,” he said.

Snape sneered. With snappy movements, his wand came out of his sleeve and he pointed it at the map.

Before he could utter any spell though, a distinct childish voice piped up from behind him. “Severus!”

Snape took a long sigh, as if confronting something insufferable, and turned. “ _What_? I am in the middle of something here,” he snapped.

Kirby gave one of his usual unfazed smiles, saccharine but not quite fake, wide but not quite happy. “Lupin needs to see him. It’s urgent.” He eyed the map Snape had in his hand with interest, and Harry wondered whether or not he’d told Kirby about the map. He hadn’t had time to since the child’s return. Did he know about the map already?

Kirby looked Snape straight in the face and made a requesting gesture. “I’ll need that too, Severus,” he said.

Snape glared, but slowly handed Kirby the folded piece of parchment. Kirby just stepped in front of the man and took Harry by the hand, leading him into the school and out of Snape’s scrutiny. Harry was beyond grateful.

At least he was until Lupin confiscated the map while Kirby watched, chastising Harry for not handing in an object that could’ve helped them capture Sirius Black.

* * *

They were in his office. Remus wondered why he was humoring the child’s idea, but maybe he wished for it to be true. Sirius Black, his best friend, innocent, like Remus knew all along. But now that he had the map, he could be sure. The map never lied.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” the incantation came out of his mouth like habit, rolling off his tongue so familiarly like it was just waiting to be spoken. Ink crawled along the parchment, branching out into the lines and intricate layout he knew so well.

The tags appeared naturally; Remus easily located ‘Remus Lupin’ and ‘Astra ‘Kirby’ Knight.’ He glanced at the child. That full name was new knowledge. Before he could say anything though…

_‘Peter Pettigrew’._

It was there. Right under Kirby’s name.

Peter was alive.

* * *

Kirby knew it. If the rat was Peter Pettigrew for real, then Sirius had good reason to target the rat. After asking Lupin, he’d confirmed that they were the closest of friends and Sirius’s scenario had been reasonable. 

Kirby didn’t want to jump to conclusions, but this disproved everything everyone had been told. Peter Pettigrew was in fact _not_ dead, and that meant Sirius couldn’t have killed him. Then, had he killed the Potters and 12 other people? Chances were unlikely. Kirby fished a hand into his pocket for the little rat.

He pulled it out, and it looked dazed, surprised to be handled roughly, but Remus gasped at the sight of it, and immediately a wand was out, pointed at the rat, and suddenly, it was a man, a small fat man with buck teeth and mousy gray hair that flew in every direction.

He squeaked, transformed into a rat again, and ran.

* * *

“Scabbers! Where were you?!” Ron shouted, relieved, as the rat climbed up Ron’s pant leg and scurried into his pocket.

Kirby ran into the room not long after, looking slightly winded, head swinging around as if searching for something. His eyes landed on Ron, and he immediately rushed over. “Ron! Have you seen Scabbers?”

Kirby wasn’t smiling.

Even though the child was two heads shorter than him, the blue eyes almost seemed to glow with ferocity. It was all Ron could do to muster up a meek “yeah, he just climbed into my pocket. Why?”

Kirby tsked, but quickly a smile was back on his face, as if nothing had happened just then.

* * *

Kirby dropped back into the Shrieking Shack, where Sirius awaited.

“So? Was I right?” Sirius asked.

Kirby bit his lip and nodded. “I can’t believe I let him get away! He ran straight back to Ron!”He ran his fingers through his messy hair and mussed it up in frustration. 

Sirius growled, something Kirby was starting to get somewhat used to. “The dirty little rat,” he spat. “We need to get to him _somehow_ …”

And this time, Kirby was in full agreeance, there was just a little tidbit concerning him.

“Sirius, you sound so evil,” Kirby frowned. “What did you plan to do when you got your hands on Peter?”

Sirius swung around. “Kill him! Of course! Like he did to my best friend!”

And Kirby was, as usual, unfazed, having seen far more than his fair share of murderous villains, but Sirius wasn’t supposed to be one. “And that makes you better than him how?”

Sirius faltered. “He…”

Kirby continued. “I get how much you want to, but also remember that he’s your key to freedom,” Kirby reminded.

Sirius glared. “And what would _you_ know?” He’d listened to the kid’s troubles, and he knew definitely that he was more than a child, that he’d faced more dangers than the average person could even imagine, but how would he know the devastation of a best friend, dying at his hands?

Kirby’s smile took on a solemn quality, never falling off his face, but a slight down tilt of his head and a too-dark shadow flickered over the child’s face. Sirius regretted what he said for a moment. “Sorry—” he began.

“I’d know,” Kirby said. His voice was low, and sent shivers up Sirius’s back. “...” He opened his mouth as if to say something, but closed it again.

Sirius didn’t need to know how many times Kirby had screwed up, releasing Nightmare, or being asleep while Meta and Dedede fought off Haltmann, or putting Dedede in danger because of Kirby’s own reputation.

So he did what he did best and brushed it off, plastering a wide, childish, joyful smile on his face. He raised his chin to the light, hoping he pulled off his usual twinkling blue eyes. “It’s nothing! Back to the issue, you really shouldn’t be killing someone if you want to prove your innocence.”

Sirius blinked. That was weird. “Okay,” he dumbly replied. But then he remembered his train of thought before Kirby upended it. “Wait, no! The goal here is revenge on Peter for killing James and Lily!”

Kirby’s childish pout returned. “Don’t you want to be free though? You did escape and come all this way after all.”

Sirius was sure. “It doesn’t matter what happens to me as long as James and Lily are avenged,” he declared.

Kirby sat, contemplative, even though Sirius had just basically announced murderous intentions. Sirius somewhat wondered if Kirby just had a few screws loose to regard such things so casually. Kirby hummed. And then he spoke.

“And having your soul sucked out isn’t enough vengeance?” Kirby said. It was expressionless, with oddly all-seeing blue eyes piercing straight into Sirius’s soul, forcing Sirius to consider it.

And now that Kirby mentioned it, what better punishment was there than what he’d suffered for the past twelve years? What had he been thinking? Sirius grinned manically.

Kirby really wasn’t sure what was more inhumane, at this point. Kill Peter Pettigrew, or allow dementors to chew up his soul and essential being beyond recognition? All he was sure was that Peter Pettigrew had to pay somehow. Kirby was usually as laid back as a puffball could be, but he understood Sirius. Peter committed the grave sin of harming a friend, and for that, he had to pay.

The hatred and rage in Sirius’s soul made Kirby want to shudder though. It was nowhere close to the scale of say, Sectonia, or Dark Meta Knight, but seeing it made him want to do something about it, and he only knew one thing he could do about it.

And that was to use his Jamba magic.

He’d been far too liberal with it already. But… if he was only going to use it for the sake of purification, it couldn’t be bad could it? Kirby bit his lip.

“Hey, Sirius,” Kirby called. “You know how you’re really angry right now? You sorta just hate Peter and everything?”

Sirius gave a humorless huff of something akin to laughter. “You could say so. Twelve years with dementors, remember?”

“So… you know your mind’s not really… right? Right now?”

Reluctance was clear in the slow nod that Sirius gave. Kirby had to give him kudos for the strength and courage to acknowledge it. Now came the hard part.

“So, if I, say… had something that could fix up your mind, what would you say?” Kirby apprehensively questioned. 

To Kirby’s surprise, Sirius merely shrugged. “Sure,” he said with a dark chuckle. “Not much you could do to screw me up even worse than now, anyways.”

And Kirby resented that, but continued. “Even if it makes you my friend?”

Sirius’s eyebrow was raised now. “Um, yeah. What sort of wholesome power is this?”

Kirby’s fingers itched for something to grab and scratch and fidget with. Sirius didn’t understand. “No, I mean, like, forcing you to be my friend. It’s sort of a side effect, and I don’t want you to if you don’t want to.” Kirby really wanted Sirius to be sure what this was before he agreed.

Sirius stared at him and blinked, and opened his mouth, and Kirby could feel the oncoming rejection hitting him for sure— 

“Sure. Fine.” Sirius chuckled. “Was that it? I thought we were already friends?”

Kirby opened his eyes. Really? Really, it was okay?

As if Sirius could tell what Kirby was thinking, which really wasn’t a hard feat considering Kirby usually wore his feelings on his sleeves if it wasn’t written plainly on his forehead, Sirius placed a large, firm hand on Kirby’s head in some form of an affectionate pat. It was stiffer than Meta Knight’s hand, colder, quavering slightly with Sirius’s malnourished form.

Kirby looked up at the smiling man with dark bags under his eyes. “It’s fine, Kirby,” Sirius assured. “Whatever you can do to help, I’ll appreciate it.”

Kirby’s mouth slowly tilted into an upwards smile, and then stretched into a wide grin. Confidently, he nodded. “Alright!” he shouted. He stood.

His eyes closed, he reached into himself for the power. The spring welled forth, pulsing with pink magic, pulling, twisting, winding, as Kirby molded it into his hands. He opened his eyes to a bright pink heart of magic, a completely pure Jamba heart, and with a prayer that it worked, knowing it would, just as it had for Hyness and the mage sisters and Galacta and Morpho and everyone else, flicked it through the air towards Sirius’s chest.

The target hit, releasing a sprinkle of light, catching on the dust in the air, a pure white light of purification. And when it faded Sirius Black stood there, still ragged, still exhausted, but with a sort of peace in his eyes, a joy that Kirby hadn’t seen before, and Kirby knew it had worked.

Kirby smiled.

* * *

As it happened, a purified Sirius was a much less murderous Sirius, but no less enraged at the traitor. He was much more agreeable to the idea of Peter being sent to Azkaban for the dementors to chew out, even with a sort of insidious gleam in his eyes.

It certainly made Kirby question whether his Jamba heart was working, but he supposed if the new light in Sirius’s eyes was anything to go by, he was fine.

Truth be told, Kirby regretted not going to Remus in that moment and pulling him into the loop. So much could’ve been avoided if only he or Sirius had. Kirby’s plans were never the best, considering his usual strategy for any enemy was to brute force it again and again until it fell— and Sirius’s original plan had been to just kill Peter as soon as possible.

Yeah. Plans were neither of their strong suits. But the proposed plan? Kirby thought it would work.

* * *

It was April when they finally decided to put their simplistic plan into motion. Peter Pettigrew, Scabbers, was in Ron’s hands, and Kirby was closest to the trio, so he was tasked with getting Pettigrew.

It had been ridiculously easy to nab Scabbers out of Ron’s pocket with just a tiny bit of finesse, hopefully (very very hopefully) without Ron noticing. After that, all Kirby had to do was get it to the Shrieking Shack, where he and Sirius had made a tiny cage to contain the rat.

Yeah, it was really simplistic. Kirby thought that was all it had to be; this wasn’t another Void Termina or Jambastion, where he’d had to divide up teams and coordinate invasions to the Jambandra base in groups of four with Meta Knight’s help. It was a simple extraction and delivery, to be carried out by Kirby as soon as he had Peter. Bring him to the ministry, turn him in, get Sirius freed.

That was it. The Golden Trio shouldn’t have followed him; Remus shouldn’t have followed him, even _Snape_ shouldn’t have followed him.

But they did.

* * *

With practiced ease, Kirby slid into the little hole between roots in the Whomping Willow before any of its vines could so much as displace a hair on his head.

Ron gulped. “He went into the Shrieking Shack.”

* * *

Kirby had been just a bit distant recently, and act as he might, Ron wasn’t stupid. All things had a logical cause, and there had to be some reason why Kirby stopped hanging out with them often.

It wasn’t like Kirby was gone all the time, but Ron was sure Kirby was hiding something from them. Especially after that Scabbers incident.

Two months had passed already, but it still weighed in Ron’s mind, the way Kirby’s eyes were cold as ice and his smile disappeared. Ron still thought he’d imagined it; every time he looked at the child’s face, there was that warm and bright smile of his again.

Ron kept an extra eye out for Scabbers. And when he felt the warm weight of his pet rat disappear from his pocket. He knew something was up.

He glanced at Kirby. Nonchalantly, the child smiled and waved like it was a normal day, going to the Head Table to nab a few (more than a few) slices of toast and stuff a few fruits in his pockets— how big were his pockets anyways? Ron was sure he’d already seen the kid stuff at least 10 in already.

Then, with a light skip, Kirby left the hall. Sure that Kirby wasn’t watching, Ron leaned into their trio. “It’s happening!” He whispered.

The three of them hastily scarfed down what little food they had and ran out the hall, hot on Kirby’s heels— but not too hot, or Kirby would notice.

* * *

It was just a bit surprising when paper airplanes flew out of nowhere and straight into their faces.

Harry unfolded his quickly, hoping to get back to following Kirby quickly. He saw Ron and Hermione do the same out of the corner of his eye.

A note? In his own handwriting, no less.

What?

He scratched his head in confusion. He didn’t recall writing this.

He quickly skimmed it, and…

Oh.

_Harry, you may not trust me now, but Sirius Black is innocent. You saw on the map yourself, didn’t you? Peter Pettigrew. He’s alive, Sirius didn’t kill him. Sirius didn’t sell your parents to Voldemort, he never had their location in the first place because he told Peter Pettigrew. Peter Pettigrew was the traitor all along._

There was no signature. But did there really need to be one?

* * *

Ron bit his lip. If they stopped now, they’d lose Kirby. But…

He looked at Harry’s and Hermione’s faces, just as perplexed as his own. Either whoever wrote this was ridiculously good at forging handwriting — could polyjuice potion copy these kinds of behaviors maybe? — or he wrote the letter himself which was impossible because he didn’t remember writing a letter and it was _beyond_ messy. It was scribbled, written quickly, with big lettering that he knew all too well from rushed transfiguration essays done the night before their due dates.

_SCABBERS IS NOT WHAT YOU THINK!! How odd is it that Scabbers has lived for so many years, a common house rat? His hand has been missing. Peter Pettigrew was missing an arm and was an unregistered rat animagus. Connect the dots._

_P.s. yes, that means you’ve been in bed with a middle-aged man countless times now._

Ron scrunched up his face— and his letter simultaneously. Whoever wrote it didn’t need to spell it out, he could already see the connection.

It _had_ to be bogus. It couldn’t be real, couldn’t be Scabbers. Scabbers had been around for as long as he could remember, since Ron was a baby.

Ron crumpled it up more and threw it. They needed to get back to Kirby.

* * *

Hermione’s letter sent chills down her back.

_Your time turner will come in handy very very soon. The dots are all there, from the names on the map and Lupin’s “condition”, to everything Harry’s said about Sirius Black._

_Good luck._

That explained a lot, but also told Hermione very little.

Shoot, Ron was already running ahead. But she hadn’t figured out what the letter meant yet!

She ran after him, stuffing the crisp piece of parchment onto her pocket.

* * *

And then Kirby went into the hole between the Whomping Willow’s roots, and all of them had to wonder if Kirby had a screw loose or something because it was the _Whomping Willow_ , the tree that had almost killed Harry and Ron last year.

Seeing the child’s skills up front really put into perspective just how much they didn’t know. But really, hadn’t things like this been happening all the time? Everything from jumping over the table during his introduction in First year to saving Malfoy just months ago.

Hermione entertained the idea that Kirby was using magic to make himself lighter or more mobile, but then again, not a single time had she ever seen Kirby pull out a wand, and unusual or not, Kirby couldn’t know _wandless_ magic when even the best trained witches and wizards didn’t.

There was no time to think though. Ron harrumphed. “Fine then! We’ll get in there ourselves somehow! Hermione, do you remember anything about the Whomping Willow from herbology?”

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows, digging into her library of knowledge. She knew next to nothing about the treacherous tree; a disappointing oversight on her part. “Sorry, nothing. I don’t think we ever learned about it.”

“Right then!” Ron shouted with false cheer. “I don’t think any of us fancy being killed by the tree, so here’s the plan!”

Hermione had a bad feeling about this.

“I run and try to distract it for a bit, and you two get into the shack. I’ll follow. Sounds good?”

_No_ , Hermione thought before she could yell it, _not good! Why are you going so far for your pet rat? You don’t need to get hurt! We can find another way!_

But before she could yell it, Ron was already into the fray and Harry had grabbed her arm, pulling her towards the shack. Hastily, she balanced herself and started running with Harry, getting her wand out of her sleeve while hoping she didn’t drop it.

“ _Woah!_ ” Ron shouted, and Hermione heard a thud, swung her head over, _thank goodness he was fine_ , before her mind was pulled back into the hole at the base of the tree. And _oh_ no, oh no oh no oh no, there were more branches that kept swinging around, and she really should’ve tied up her hair before she got into this—

Things kept running through her mind and she knew _exactly_ why they were going to such lengths to follow their friend; the notes they received were just _to_ ominous and they all knew everything was connected, they’d seen the dots and dotted in the lines between them but hadn’t quite filled them in—

And then there was quiet.

A thud sounded outside, but all Hermione could hear was the deafening silence in her ear, accompanied by Harry’s coughing on the dust and an oddly serene little shack that was also _hauntingly_ old and eerie.

And there was Kirby, staring at them with wide, alarmed blue eyes.

And there was Sirius Black.

* * *

Ron was _really_ running out of energy by now, and yeah, this was a dumb idea, but he was a Gryffindor, they got those pretty often if you asked him.

Another twist out of the path of a branch, another miss that nearly hit him, slamming into the ground, impact kicking up dirt and uprooting nearby grass. 

It seemed like Harry and Hermione were in now, so all he needed was to get in there with them, but his legs _ached_ , his forehead was _pouring_ sweat, his body felt like it was burning up but chilled all the same, and there were just _so many branches_ —

And then they stopped.

Ron had to take a few seconds to stop running, finally regaining his balance, making sure he didn’t fall over and accidentally roll down the hill or something. His heartbeat pounded in his ears; why did the tree stop? The branches shook, almost like they were shivering, but stayed lax and groundward.

Crouched there in a slightly ragged suit, looking exhausted and as if hell had frozen over, was Professor Lupin. How had Ron not noticed him approaching the tree? Though, Ron was pretty distracted to be fair. He was next to a knot in the tree’s roots.

Ron wondered why or how he knew that that would stop the tree, but hey, he wasn’t complaining. It was an absolute _miracle_ he hadn’t gotten more than just a few bruises and scrapes.

Right, Harry and Hermione. “Harry and Hermione are in there, Professor!” he quickly tossed behind him as he slid into the shack through the roots.

* * *

Since seeing Peter again, Lupin knew exactly what he had to do. His last remaining best friend was _alive_ , imprisoned, forgotten, and that all changed _now_. Kirby had gone into the Shrieking Shack, which was locked from both Hogsmeade and any other door. The only other person that knew how to get in by the roots without just dodging all the branches was _Sirius_.

If they were doing what he thought they were doing, then _Peter_ was in there. And Lupin would make _sure_ that he didn’t escape this time.

* * *

“Harry? Hermione?!” Kirby yelled, surprised, when they dropped into the shack. He had finally pushed Pettigrew— Scabbers, right now— into the little cage he and Sirius had made for him.

Both their mouths were wide open, flabbergasted, and Kirby felt overwhelming guilt for not telling them anything.

Their faces were distraught, eyes filled with a look of betrayal, the thing Kirby hated to see _most_ in his friends. Kirby was loyal, Kirby was friends with anyone who’d let him be their friend.

Evidently they didn’t think of him like that anymore.

“I can explain,” the words hurriedly tumbled off Kirby’s tongue.

“ _You!_ ” Hermione shouted, loathing laced into her razor-sharp voice. “You’ve been _working with him?_ ” Her wand was out, pointed straight at Kirby’s neck.

Any words Kirby had died in his throat.

The look of hatred. The icy cold eyes. Something Kirby hadn’t seen on the faces of those he considered friends since… too long ago.

His eyes burned with unshed tears, his mind shut down, and he held his breath; he couldn’t cry here, no he couldn’t, no he couldn’t—

“ _Expelliarmus!”_

A snap; the soft clattering of a wand on the ground, _Harry’s_ , Kirby absently noted, the wand tip that was trained at Sirius now gone.

“Professor!” shouted Ron. “Why—”

“It’s a trap!” Harry shouted immediately. “It’s Sirius Black!”

“ _Where_ is he, Sirius—”

“You too, Professor?! How could you?! I trusted you!”

“We’ve got him, Remus, _we finally have him!”_

“Sirius, you should’ve _said something—_ ”

“ _He’s a werewolf!”_

“It’s all fine now, the dementors will have him—”

“I thought you were going to kill me?! What—”

“Harry, quiet! Listen to us—”

_“Expelliarmus!”_ another clattering wand, the door creaking open again,

“Revenge is so sweet—” Snape was here.

“Don’t you _dare_ , Snivellus—”

There was too much, too much going on, a storm around him, a hurricane in his mind, and all he could think was—

“ _ENOUGH!!”_

Kirby’s skin glowed pink for the briefest of moments, power springing forth almost unbidden, barely suppressed _magic_ blasting through the room. 

The high-pitched voice shocked them all into silence, the raw ferocity in it echoing through the Shrieking Shack’s chambers, the pure power stifling their stress and tension and washing over them like a warm blast of air.

They looked at the source, the center, Kirby, and heard the faintest of sniffles from the pink-haired child, and finally remembered, all of them…

Kirby was a child. Kirby was still there. And Kirby was stressed, breaking down, holding back the tears and sniffles. A hiccup, and then his soft, soothing voice spoke. 

“Nobody is understanding,” he said. “You’re all speaking over each other, trying to step over each other, and you need to _stop_ , _explain_ , make it so that _everyone understands_.”

Everyone in the room looked down, somber, varying degrees of shame on their faces.

Kirby roughly and quickly wiped his tears and snot off with his puffy sleeve, before turning to Sirius. “You go first; it began with you.”

Before anyone could say anything, Kirby’s piercing blue glance swept through the room, almost daring people to interrupt.

“I never sold out the Potters,” Sirius began. “It was Peter Pettigrew.”

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but Kirby’s look — a straight blue stare right at him, _through_ him — stopped him.

“We were friends in school— at least we thought we were. Everyone thought Peter was dead,” Sirius continued, “But he was really just an unregistered Animagus. A rat”

A collective sharp gasp sounded through the room.

Kirby sighed in relief. The truth was out now, for sure.

Sirius continued. “There’s even more proof. The map. Harry, you got it, didn’t you? You saw the name Peter Pettigrew. The map never lies.”

Remus stepped in. “I can confirm that. I’m one of the people who charmed it.”

Sirius beamed at his old friend. “Peter was disguised as the Weasley family pet, Scabbers. I saw him in the newspapers, missing a finger, after all they found of him that night was a finger. I came to Hogwarts to kill Pettigrew,” he finally said. “It was never to kill you, Harry. I could never kill the last remnant we have of James and Lily.” He shook his head. “Plans changed though. It’ll be better to let the dementors have him.”

“Are you _sure_ , Sirius?” Remus asked. “You must’ve wanted this for so long.”

Sirius smiled, a tired, but happy smile. “I did. But now I’ve met Harry, and seen you again, and all I want is for this to end. I want to be free again. Ultimately though,” Sirius pointed a too-thin finger at his godson, “Harry gets to decide. Do you want us to kill Peter? Or do you want him to go to the dementors?”

* * *

In the quiet explanation, they all had the chance to contemplate.

Ron remembered his letter. Scabbers.

His pet rat killed his best friend’s parents.

Or rather, Peter Pettigrew killed his best friend’s parents and then disguised as his pet. He had both a home and a position that would be advantageous if he ever decided to finish the job.

Ron felt sick.

* * *

Harry was put on the spot, but he didn’t dislike it. He’d almost never been given the decision, and now…

He wanted so badly to let them kill Peter Pettigrew. Pettigrew killed his parents, he deserved that and far worse.

But— Sirius. Sirius Black was his godfather, his only living family, now. And where would killing Peter Pettigrew land him? Back in Azkaban, for sure.

“Azkaban,” Harry declared. “We’ll bring him to Hogwarts and turn him over to the dementors.”

* * *

Kirby could finally smile. Harry made a good choice, Severus wasn’t doing anything yet, and Sirius had reunited with Remus. All that was left now was to bring Pettigrew to Hogwarts. And now that he had Pettigrew in the cage—

“The door’s open,” Kirby realized aloud. He must’ve forgotten to close it when everyone was shouting over each other and _oh no_ , it was his fault now that Pettigrew had escaped, because he couldn’t keep his emotions in check, couldn’t stop himself from stepping in, lost sight of his goal and now…

“ _What?_ ” Sirius asked.

“... the door’s open, I didn’t lock it,” Kirby hesitantly reiterated. “I was stressed, everyone was shouting, I thought Harry and Hermione _hated me_ and I thought he was already in the cage, I didn’t remember that I didn’t actually lock it yet, _oh no, oh no, oh no oh no oh no,_ ” Kirby paced faster and faster circles into the ground. “This is my fault, he’s escaped because of me, I need to find him!”

Sirius rushed outside, scouring the surroundings. No, no, no, Peter had to be long gone by now, running like the coward he was for his entire life.

Behind him, he barely heard the shout of “Stupefy!” before all he knew was black and he tumbled to the ground.

* * *

“Severus, what are you doing? You heard Sirius!” Remus was outraged. “You—”

“Be that as it may,” Severus drawled, “he hasn’t been pardoned yet, and without the proof that _Peter_ ” he spat the name like a curse, “is alive, he is still a wanted criminal that I am supposed to bring in.”

“But Severus, the dementors will have him—”

“And they’ll have you too if you continue to be an accomplice. Come quietly.”

Remus opened his mouth to shoot back another retort, but suddenly closed it. “Right. Right.”

“You can’t be serious, Professor!” Hermione shouted. “Isn’t he your friend?!”

While Remus offered empty placations to the students, Severus turned to Kirby, too young, too naive, too bright for any of this. Kirby looked so betrayed, something he was too used to seeing. But Kirby was needed for this plan too.

Truth be told, he didn’t care _what_ happened to Sirius. Sirius was his childhood tormentor, someone he’d had dreams of hexing several times over. He probably could avoid a lot of trouble with the brats if he just let Sirius find Peter with them. But for the sake of appearances, he couldn’t be seen as an accomplice with Sirius. The man had all but sealed his fate by walking out of the Shrieking shack, the only place that had actual privacy.

_Peter_ on the other hand... 

Peter killed Lily.

But he couldn’t do anything about it right now. All he could do was leave it in the hands of the students, with Granger, who had the time turner, and he _hated_ that it was all he could do, but they had the best chance here, and Sirius had to. Nobody could be nearby when the kids used it, or there might be unintended effects. 

“Kirby,” he started.

But he was stopped by the child’s face. No smile, no twinkling curious wide eyes, nothing but a cold glare, with wide open eyes that could see too much. The child— he had to remind himself this, Kirby was a _child_ , about to cry when he was so much as glared at by Hermione and Harry, ready to have a meltdown while everyone was shouting— looked _intimidating_.

“ _Don’t mess with the Star Warriors_ ,” the child spoke, and Snape knew there was _so much_ more gravity behind those words than there appeared to be.

Severus faltered for a moment, but quickly composed himself. “Protect the children,” he said as smoothly as he could, denying in his mind that the way Kirby’s face had smoothed back into something neutral brought him any relief. (It did. The absence of a smile on the child’s face was always unsettling.)

Kirby nodded, resolute and confident.

“When the time comes,” Severus added, “Astra Knight may be able to help Black.”

Kirby’s eyes widened. He knew what that meant.

Severus didn’t care what happened to Sirius… but Kirby did, and if giving him a hint would help him, Severus didn’t mind doing so.

When had Kirby grown on him so much?

He sighed.

“ _Levicorpus._ ”

* * *

Too much was happening at once, Ron found. First, it had been the Shrieking Shack, then it’d turned into Sirius Black, then Pettigrew’s escape, and now…

“We have to save Sirius!” Harry shouted. Ron knew exactly what saving Sirius meant to him. If what Harry had told them was true, Sirius was Harry’s only living family, Harry’s only chance of getting away from the Dursleys, and Ron was reserving judgement on the man for now, but for Harry’s sake…

Kirby walked over then, seemingly deep in thought. It was again, unsettling to see the lack of a smile on Kirby’s face. It just really added to the gravity of the situation.

As soon as he was close enough though, Kirby looked at them with deeply apologetic eyes, and Harry and Hermione remembered. Kirby said he thought they hated him. And from the way he kept twiddling his thumbs and biting his lip and fidgeting, he probably still did.

They all felt a pang of guilt.

“Um, about earlier, Kirby… we’re sorry for jumping to conclusions,” Hermione apologized, ever the peacemaker.

Kirby’s eyes brightened, and they weren’t sure how fake or genuine it was. Kirby, with his usual cheer, spoke. “It’s fine. For now, we need to focus on getting Pettigrew.”

And he was right.

* * *

Hermione recalled her letter.

The time turner. It would be breaking rules to use it here… but what better choice did they have? It was this or let Sirius receive the Dementor’s kiss.

“Guys… I may have a way.”

* * *

Of course Hermione had a time turner. Ron thought those were urban legends! Even Percy hadn’t gotten one. Hermione really was amazing.

Hermione held up the locket watch. “It’s a time turner,” she explained. “We can go back a few hours, change things to happen our way.”

Harry grinned. “That’s brilliant! We can go back and catch Pettigrew before he runs then!”

Hermione nodded, confident. “We’ll need to be positioned just-right though. We can’t be spotted by our past selves; it’s taboo. Supposedly messes up the continuity.”

Ron hummed. “We can’t be spotted. Can we write letters then? Because if we all knew this before, none of this would’ve happened, I think.”

They all stared at each other.

“Letters!” they shouted in unison.

“So that’s what they were!” Ron said. “But then that means anything we change will have already happened. We’ll have to be careful, otherwise things will change again!”

“Right, so all the letters we write need to be identical to the ones we received already,” Harry deduced.

Hermione sensed an odd loop. “But if we already got the letters and we’re writing them again now, then originally, what got us to wrote letters? Has everything already happened before? Has this happened multiple times already?” She put her head in her hands. “What if I’ve broken the rules already? I can’t tell where on the continuum our plans are starting! What if—”

Ron clapped a hand on her shoulder. “Hermione, now’s not the time! It doesn’t matter. We write the letters and then we see how it goes, okay?”

Hermione still looked frazzled. But she nodded nonetheless.

* * *

They tried their best to recall what had been written on their papers, and when their (coincidentally identical) letters were finally finished, Hermione stood them all behind some stones close to the Whomping Willow. Nobody was supposed to see them, so they had to be discreet about this. After their past selves got into the shack, they’d quickly take position outside the tree to catch Pettigrew.

Kirby stayed mostly silent during the entire planning process while Ron, Hermione, and Harry bounced ideas off of each other. Time was a fickle thing, he knew.

Hermione noticed Kirby’s uneasiness as she pulled out the time turner again, extending the chain to wrap around all four of them— it was a bit of a squeeze, but would barely work. “You alright, Kirby?”

Kirby nodded as much as he could, squished between all of them. He was the shortest, so it was easiest for him to be in the center. It was times like this that he disliked his stature. But Hermione was probably asking about the way Kirby kept eyeing the tiny clock.

“Bad experiences with clockwork,” Kirby muttered. “Story for another time.” Because really, it was a bit irrational of Kirby to be like this, considering NOVA was as big as a planet and so was Star Dream. But you never could be too safe with the Ancients, considering all the things they made.

The trio looked at him oddly, but soon, with two flicks, they were absorbed by their surroundings. The clouds flew by, morphing and forming and fading, while the sun flickered in and out of view behind them. People nearby zoomed past, animals appearing sometimes and disappearing with the blink of an eye. Everything went backwards, backwards, backwards… 

The sun was high in the sky, twilight on the horizon but not quite there yet.

They waited. They needed to deliver the letters; that’s where things started for them.

It was a mostly quiet affair.

Kirby sneezed.

They shushed him immediately, but nobody was watching anyways, so they sat down and talked.

* * *

“What were you doing when you were away for those two months anyways, Kirby?”

Kirby put a contemplative expression on his face, a finger raised to his chin. “You’ll figure out soon enough,” he answered finally. If what Severus said was true and Kirby could actually use the Star Warriors’ diplomatic influence here…

* * *

When the time came, they threw the letters out as paper airplanes. And when the trio headed in, the trio plus one pink-haired child stepped out from behind the rocky outcrop, right to the entrance of the shack.

Hermione had the wonderful idea that a human transfigured into a rat was still a human, and thus Petrificus Totalus should theoretically work.

None of them had any illusions about their aim though. They’d gotten a good amount of practical lessons in Professor Lupin’s class this year… but was it enough to hit a small rodent at high speeds?

The brown fur came into view of Ron’s lumos spell, and it began.

Peter Pettigrew ran like… well, a rat. He scurried in zig-zagged lines, every which way, dodging the beams of light that targeted him; ran up, down, left, right, and apparently up again.

Straight into Kirby’s pocket.

See, Jamba magic worked in mysterious ways. Once it touched him once, it imprinted. To a true friend, it wouldn’t matter. The artificial bond would be nothing compared to the strength and solidity of a true one. It would fade with time, eventually smothered.

But once an artificial bond was made, if nothing else happened, it stayed. It may fade, it may shift, it may tangle. But if the user wished it, it would rekindle, rising from its remnants once again.

Jamba magic was something Kirby hated for how easily it controlled people, made people unthinkingly follow him when all he wanted to be was _friends_ with them.

But right now, as Kirby pulled the shaking rat out of his pocket, three wands trained on it and incantations on the tips of their tongues, he was beyond grateful for it.

* * *

The aurors had already arrived by the time they got back to the school. They had to find where the aurors were keeping Sirius Black and talking with Dumbledore, _now_. Harry cursed. He should’ve asked Lupin for the map back; he could’ve easily just looked for the name.

But of course it wasn’t that easy, so they decided to split up. And loathe as they were to leave Pettigrew with Kirby, they had to admit that it was probably their best chance. It was unlikely that Pettigrew would run from Kirby after willingly running _to_ Kirby after all.

After scouring the hallways, Harry finally heard the unfamiliar voices, adults, conversing with McGonagall, Lupin, Snape, and Dumbledore in one of the unused classrooms. Was that Fudge in the center, speaking?

Sirius was being held in one of the rooms, charmed and warded against escape and destruction. He was safe for now.

Heart pounding in his chest, Harry ran back to where Kirby waited. There was no time to see if Ron or Harry had returned yet, but they needed to show everyone that Pettigrew was alive _as soon as possible_.

Kirby was unfazed when Harry roughly grabbed his arm and pulled him along the path through hallways, corridors, on a flight of stairs.

And when they finally reached the room, Harry, arms shaking with exhaustion, reached to slam the doors open.

Kirby stopped him. Kirby’s bright blue eyes almost seemed to glow in the night, as he trained them intently on the door.

Harry watched as Kirby took a deep breath, replacing the bright and childish smile on his face with something more serene. It was like watching Kirby adopt another persona, so unnatural to see that Harry stopped in his tracks entirely.

Kirby, one hand still holding onto Pettigrew, pushed the door open.

* * *

Fudge had to stop speaking when the door opened. Was another professor stepping in? No, it was just a bright-pink-haired child with bright blue eyes and a triumphant smile on his face. He couldn’t have been more than 10— maybe even 8 or 9, judging by his height and the baby-fat on his cheeks. Despite this, there was an unsettling maturity about his gaze.

He wondered what such a young child was doing in the school, but business was business, and couldn’t be stopped for a random wandering kid.

“Excuse me,”Fudge said. “We’re in the middle of an important conversation. Why don’t you go play somewhere else, son?”

To his surprise, none of the professors said anything about the child’s presence. Some looked like they had something to say, namely the tired-looking one, Lupin, wasn’t it? But held their tongue.

“I am sorry to interrupt, Mr. Cornelius Fudge. Minister of Magic, right?”

The formal language threw him for a loop, despite the child’s high-pitched and youthful voice. “Why, er, yes—”

“My name is Astra Knight,” the child introduced, and for a moment, Fudge’s breathing hitched. It had to be a coincidence, yes, the naming pattern didn’t necessarily mean that he was a Star Warrior or Knight—

“Star Warrior of the First Order, Protector of Worlds. I have absolute proof that Sirius Black is innocent.”

* * *

The Star Warriors were a peculiar existence.

They came and went as they pleased. They followed chivalrous codes and all considered themselves Knights.

And in their wake, two things could arise. Great destruction, or great protection. Their only claim to their title came from the power of their blade, and their Ancients-bestowed Warp Stars. Eventually, they organized into what became known over the universe as the Star Warrior Association, the elite division of a great intergalactic army, the Galactic Soldier Army.

Their influence spread far and wide, to any planet accessible to them, thanks to millions of years of networking, diplomatic interactions, the likes.

Earth was no stranger. The Star Warriors were a well-kept secret in both Muggle and Magical governments, but they were there.

The last time one came was over a century ago.

Why did one have to come during Fudge’s term as Minister of Magic?

Why?

* * *

What was a Star Warrior, Harry wondered? Why did he introduce himself as Astra Knight?

Just who was Kirby? 

The mystery arose again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >:D Derailing canon!
> 
> Here we go! This is where things get started
> 
> I can't believe I wrote 10k for this?? Holy cow, I didn't expect to write that much
> 
> Anyways, this chapter was meant to close up the Prisoner of Azkaban part, and introduce Kirby as a Star Warrior. Remember the Knighting he mentions to Sirius in the last chapter? He left over the few months for that, and came back with the full support of an actual military behind him. The next years are going to play with the consequences of Kirby interfering with other worlds' problems. I'm really excited for this!
> 
> I also tried my best to flesh out Kirby's Jamba heart ability in Star Allies here. I hope you enjoyed it!


End file.
